Casey vs The Personal Handler
by verkisto
Summary: Sometimes handlers need handlers too. Please heed the rating. Casey/OFC.
1. Handler's Handler

_**Warning: detailed description of explicit heterosexual encounter. Please read or not accordingly.**_

* * *

Chapter 1: Handler's Handler

Casey sat on a stool in his kitchen, a cup of coffee within reach. He smiled to himself and gazed at the calendar page on the countertop in front of him. The squares for the upcoming week were a pristine white.

Planning his free time was something he had always enjoyed since there usually seemed to be so little of it. Lately, though, baby-sitting the Intersect, Casey found he was very close to having more free time on his hands than he knew what to do with. For the first time in more years than he cared to remember, the NSA assassin, in his role as undercover handler, was almost living like a normal person.

He had his job at the Buy More and had become a top salesman. He chuckled to himself at the thought that he was always a more effective salesman when he could use a gun to help people arrive at the correct decision, but trying to convince some reluctant doofus to spend three or four hundred more dollars than they had intended on something they didn't need just by the power of his words and body language was a rush. It made all those boring hours in the NSA psych classroom seem worthwhile and not just more time stolen from the firing range and hand-to-hand combat.

Picking up a pen, he began to write. Under Sunday: marketing, dinner at CB's, do apple-bake dessert. Monday: barber shop, 6:30 p.m. Tuesday –

Just then, he heard a knock on the apartment door. Cursing softly to himself, he put the pen down and got up, thinking of two or three ways he could hurt the person at the door if it was somebody selling insurance or encyclopedias or something.

Casey opened the door and, with lowered brows, growled out, "Waddaya want?"

The young woman standing there didn't appear intimidated at all. In fact, she seemed completely at ease as she looked him straight in the eye and said, "This isn't what the weatherman said on the news."

Casey, not missing a beat, replied, "They should get their facts straight, don't you think?"

The code sequence was properly completed by the woman with the words, "It would save time."

Stepping aside and holding the door open wider, Casey allowed the woman to slip under his arm and into the apartment. Taking a brief look around to assure himself that nobody was lurking in the courtyard to see her enter, he closed the door and locked it securely.

Turning to face him as Casey came back into the living room, the woman set her purse and a small nylon carryall on the floor. She then slipped off her jacket and slung it over the back of the big La-Z-Boy chair that held pride of place in the room. Casey gave her an appraising look, taking in her trim figure and understated, tasteful clothing, the soft cashmere sweater and hip-skimming A-line skirt outlining her shape just the way Casey liked it best.

"They sure don't spring for any extras, do they?" she commented, looking around the apartment as Casey picked up her jacket and went over to the small closet near the apartment door to hang it up neatly.

"Don't need much," said Casey, going straight through to the kitchen. "I was just having a coffee. Want one?"

"You don't happen to have anything stronger, do you?" the woman asked, sitting down on the sofa and making herself at home.

"Whiskey all right? I have a bottle of Jack Daniels," Casey called out from the kitchen, pulling the bottle and two cocktail glasses out of a cupboard.

"Please. On the rocks."

Casey smiled as he poured out two healthy shots, both over ice, and carried them back into the living room. He handed one glass to the woman and reached down with his glass to clink the side of hers.

"Skål," he said, and they each raised the glasses to their lips. Casey lowered his glass, looking straight at her face as he felt the cool sting of the whiskey going down his throat. He saw the challenge in her eyes as she did the same, and they slowly smiled at one another.

Casey sat down in the big chair across from the woman and leaned forwards. She crossed her legs slowly, and he knew she had waited until he had had a completely unobstructed view before she had done so. Casey recognized immediately that she was trying to soften him up and, frankly, it was beginning to work.

They sat in silence for another minute, coolly appraising one other. Finally, Casey broke the silence with a question.

"I've been on this assignment for several months. Why hasn't a handler made contact before now?"

"We didn't see a need to," the woman replied. "You seemed to be dealing with the situation pretty well. You're in regular contact with Headquarters, so the general has been monitoring your progress as far as that goes. And you're working with a partner. Even though she's CIA, she's a stabilizing influence."

"Stabilizing?" Casey inquired. "This is a psychological protocol? Forgive me for saying, Doctor, but you don't look like the last guy the NSA set me up with for a couch trip."

"You're right, it is a psych protocol. It's something new," the woman explained. "You'll be happy to know you're one of the guinea pigs, so to speak."

Casey grinned. "My nose is twitching with curiosity," he joked, draining the last of his whiskey.

The woman looked down for a moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. When she looked up again, she was all business.

"Agent attrition is at its highest rate since the end of the Cold War and recruitment hasn't made up for the shortfall. Recent international terrorism threats have meant that we need more agents than ever out in the field, and since the enemy has now brought the fight past our doorstep and onto home soil, the NSA is starting to feel the manpower crunch as well."

She paused for a moment, giving the introductory information a bit of time to sink in before she continued.

"Contrary to what the movies depict, the biggest threat to agent longevity isn't a hostile bullet, it's the agent's own mind. It's tough out there. I'm sure you remember, Major Casey. After all, you were in deep cover for a long time during the '80s."

Of course she would have read his file, and Casey nodded his head slowly in agreement with her assessment.

"Go on," he prompted.

"For the post-Cold War generation, agents my age and even younger, this type of intelligence work is totally new, and they're not coping well at all. The analysts had to come up with an effective and, frankly, cost-effective way of keeping agents from going off the deep end while on assignment."

"And?" asked Casey, raising his eyebrows.

"They decided that the isolation – the lack of unguarded human contact and interaction – was the problem. As you know, an agent on a cover assignment can't risk too much of that sort of thing, so they're in danger of becoming lonely and more than a little stir-crazy."

When the woman paused again, Casey merely looked at her patiently until she resumed speaking.

"I'm here as your secure companion," she stated, a smile appearing on her face once again.

"But I'm not crazy," Casey returned, also smiling again. "At least I'm pretty sure I'm not."

"That's the point, Major Casey, it's to keep you from going crazy. I'll be here overnight. You can say anything to me. I have even been told to use my discretion about what I put in my follow-up report so you'll feel comfortable. And what I do put in my report will be eyes-only, highest level."

Placing her now-empty glass on the table near Casey's, the woman stood and approached his chair. She stopped in front of him, and he had to look up to see her face. Since this angle caused her breasts to appear fuller and more shapely under the clinging fabric, Casey didn't mind at all. It didn't even bother him that she was most likely standing exactly where she was for just that reason.

"I've studied your psych profile carefully," she purred, reaching down to lightly brush the edge of his jaw with the backs of her fingers, sending a frisson of sensation down his spine. "You're capable of surviving a long time on your own, John. That's why you've been in this business as long as you have. You're one of our best. But everyone has at least one weak spot."

She turned and lowered her bottom onto Casey's lap, placing her palms flat on his chest as he opened his arms to receive her and circled them lightly around her hips. Clasping his hands together and resting them on her thigh, he smiled at her warmly.

"You can manage with pictures from magazines and a little, shall we say, manual labor, but you prefer a live woman from time to time, and we can't risk having you form a liaison with non-secure personnel," she continued.

"I'm assuming you mean prostitutes," Casey said.

"Yes, prostitutes," she said, "but not only prostitutes. Any woman who hasn't been cleared by the agency, actually. And since you're not often in contact with anyone suitable, well, they sent me."

"And I'm glad they did," Casey stated firmly.

There wasn't much else he could say at that moment, however. Those shrinks were onto something. As soon as the female agent had finished explaining the situation, Casey felt as if a dam had broken inside of him. He had held all aspects of his inner self in check for so long it had become second nature, but he had just, in effect, received permission to let go, and he gasped aloud as the realization hit him.

"See, it's working already," said the woman, and she kissed him gently on his lower lip. "That's it, let it all out, you're safe now," she continued.

When she saw the panic in his eyes at the unaccustomed loss of control, she waited for a moment, then drew his head towards herself and rested it on her breasts, all the while crooning, "Let it out, let it go."

Casey's body trembled violently for a few seconds and he was surprised to realize that the low groan he could hear was actually his own. He held the woman tightly and pressed his eyelids closed as wave after wave of emotion crashed through him and he gasped for breath with great gulping sounds.

Like a film running on fast forward, images of the people Casey had killed raced through his memory. The frightened looks just before he pulled the trigger. Their lifeblood coursing out of their bodies. Their insides, now on the outside, glistening in the headlights of the black car Casey had arrived in or the rain-distorted light of a streetlamp that he had stepped into, silently, from the shadows.

Perhaps the most disturbing images were those seen through a high-powered rifle sight. The look of incomprehension and bewilderment before Casey's target slumped to the floor, unaware that a bullet sent speeding on its way a moment before from a source too far distant to make out with the naked eye had just entered the place where they thought they were safe and ended their life with cold efficiency and very little fanfare.

All the stored-up memories, locked away for so long and actively ignored, jostled for attention and demanded a human reaction. The kind of reaction that Casey had been so carefully trained not to display. Not even to himself.

Finally, as the progression of images began to trickle away, Casey's breathing slowed and he opened his eyes, blinking to clear the moisture from his vision and, taking a final deep breath, he became still and aware of his surroundings again.

Casey's tears had wet the woman's sweater and his first impulse was to apologize, but as he tried to pull his head away she held it in place, stroking his hair, and he relaxed and sighed, giving himself up to the kind of healing comfort he hadn't allowed himself to feel in many, many years.

"There, that's better," the woman declared brightly.

She released the pressure on Casey's head and he gazed up at her face, more than a little in awe of her.

"How did you know?" he asked. "I wouldn't have broken nearly that fast under torture. How can you do that so quickly?"

"I told you, I studied your file," she replied.

Standing again and smoothing her skirt, she added with a self-satisfied grin, "And you're not the only one who's a good agent. Come with me."

She grasped his hand and pulled him to his feet. Completely docile now, Casey felt as though he were in a trance as the woman stooped to pick up the bag and her purse and, still holding onto his hand, led him upstairs to his bedroom.

* * *

"Now," she directed, "you sit here and wait for just a few minutes. Don't do anything and I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

She turned away to go into the ensuite bathroom and Casey smiled at the old saying. He hadn't heard that one for a long time, and the image of a lamb's tail twitching to and fro morphed into the woman's shapely backside as he watched her walk across the bedroom and close the door of the bathroom behind her.

While Casey waited, he wondered what was in store for him. What had his personality profile told her was appropriate? He had just decided to give himself up to the experience and was starting to feel a sense of anticipation when he heard the sound of the light switch in the bathroom followed by that of the doorknob turning.

Of course, when the door opened, the sight that met his eyes was absolutely perfect. By this point, he expected nothing less.

She walked to the middle of the room, barefoot. She was wearing a pale jade-colored Japanese happy coat made of fine silk. Underneath, he could see a white satin camisole, long enough to reach the middle of her thighs. Neither garment was embellished by embroidery, just the simple, supple fabric that gave her a fresh and refreshing appearance.

"Come here, John," she said, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Casey didn't hesitate for a moment. He stood and walked over to her, going around to stand behind her back. As if reading his mind, she waited quietly and allowed him to take the lead.

First off, he found the pin in her hair that was keeping it all up in a roll on the back of her head. He drew it out and threw it to the floor, enjoying the sight of her hair as it slid out of the confining style and flipped loosely down her back. Then he pushed her hair out of the way and stooped to kiss her neck under one ear, his breathing already starting to speed up as he smelled her skin. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose to get the full effect.

Grasping her by the shoulders and turning her around to face him, Casey smiled and grunted in appreciation as he slid the coat from her shoulders and immediately saw that her hardened nipples had raised the white fabric covering them. He lowered his hands to the hem of the garment and slid them underneath, cupping her bare buttocks and kneading them slowly.

The woman let out a brief sound like the cry of a small kitten and bent her knees slightly so she could spring into the air. Wrapping her legs around Casey's hips and her arms around his neck, she kissed him eagerly, first on his lips, then his cheeks and neck, and the pressure of her kisses matched the pressure around his lower abdomen. Casey became aware of certain logistical problems with this scenario and cleared his throat.

"Unless you want to do my laundry, I think we'd better slow down a bit," he said, his voice husky with desire.

The woman laughed lightly and put her feet back on the floor. She began to unbutton Casey's shirt from the top, completing the job by touch when he claimed her mouth for an urgent kiss.

He had to let her go for a moment to tug his arms out of the sleeves of his shirt and pull his undershirt over his head, but his hands and lips were back on her as soon as they were free, his hands once again searching under her camisole and moving up and over the soft curve of her belly, finally cupping the undersides of her breasts.

This allowed enough space between them for the woman to undo his belt and pants, and she pulled them away from his waist and down over his thighs quickly as he stepped out of his shoes and pulled his socks off one by one, using the toes of the opposite foot.

"Impressive," she observed, laughing again. "Quite the technique."

"I'm a man of many talents," Casey boasted, pausing in his kissing for a moment to step out of his pants and kick them to one side.

"Yes, you certainly are," remarked the female agent, as she lowered his boxer shorts, revealing Casey's erection, which was stimulated even more when the air hit it.

"I'm sorry, I can't wait. You're just too good," he said, bringing his hands out from under her camisole and grasping the lower edge.

She raised her arms into the air and he drew the fabric upwards and off, tossing it aside. They turned and hurried over to the bed, and as the woman sat down on the edge, Casey opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a box of condoms.

He fumbled with the opening of the box in his haste and swore in frustration.

"Here," the woman said, holding out her hand. "Sit down."

Casey gave her the box and meekly sat down beside her, his member standing at the finest military attention and jerking occasionally as tiny muscle spasms hit him.

Opening the box and pulling out a plastic packet, the woman expertly tore open one end and drew out the latex device. Checking to see which way it was rolled up, she placed the closed end over the head of Casey's penis and unrolled it down the shaft, using both hands to smooth it quickly into place. This sensation did not improve the situation for Casey, however, and he hurriedly stood, pushed the woman gently down onto the bed, and joined her, lying on his side so they were facing one another.

He found her mouth again and they relaxed into a deep kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth to find her tongue as his fingers slipped slowly into her vagina and out again. They felt quite wet and Casey grinned as he looked at her face and asked, "Okay? Now?"

She looked at him and nodded emphatically, saying, "You're damn right, now," and turned over onto her back, spreading her knees apart and moving his weight over top of her with her hands on his hips.

Casey placed himself in what he judged to be the correct location and was rewarded for that judgment when he felt her hand guiding him in. He pushed slowly, groaning deep in his chest, and his breaths started to come out in short pants. Pulling back out slightly, he heard the woman groan too, and he began with a slow, rhythmic thrust, pulling out more each time until the full length of his hard penis was almost falling out before he pushed his hips back towards her again.

When he got to this point, the woman, whose hips were moving in rhythm with his, grabbed his ears with both hands, pulled his head closer to hers, and ground out between clenched teeth, "More, harder," and Casey complied, using the strong muscles of his buttocks and thighs to power the motion.

He knew his control was slipping, however, when he began to feel the ripple of the female agent's vaginal walls, and he gave himself up to the sensation, adding an extra little pelvic thrust at the end of each push that caused the woman to moan loudly.

Finally, he could hold back no longer, and with one final thrust, he ejaculated, stopping to feel the wave of pulses through his whole body. When the sensation had diminished, he held his weight in the air over the woman for a moment longer until she forcefully pulled him down onto herself, and he kissed her tenderly once more, slipping his now-flaccid member out of her.

She moaned softly at the movement and twitched her hips under him in a last spasm of enjoyment, her body finally coming to rest on the bed.

Casey rolled off of her and said, "Just a minute," and he swung his legs around until he was once again sitting on the side of the bed. He carefully removed the condom, tied the open end into a knot, and dropped it into the waste basket beside the night table.

Lying back down beside the woman, he put his arms around her and drew her to him once again, skin to skin, the soothing warmth making him smile and sigh with contentment. He kissed her forehead lightly and rolled onto his back, plumping up the pillows slightly behind his shoulders and head. The woman rolled onto her side and laid her head on his shoulder while drawing her leg up so it rested across his thighs and, one hand caressing the hair on his chest, also sighed. They didn't speak for a couple of minutes, and when Casey realized he had been wearing an idiot grin the whole time, he raised a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat, hoping she hadn't seen it.

"I asked to be assigned to you, you know," the woman said, looking up into Casey's downturned face.

"Is that so?" he replied, amused. "What's the verdict?"

"Passed with flying colors," she answered, and they laughed.

"If you give me a few more minutes, then it's your turn for a test," he said. "And I've got very high standards."

"Well, I'll have to try really hard, then," the woman said, running a hand down Casey's stomach and twining her fingers into the hair at the base of his abdomen.

"Speaking of hard..." Casey commented, and he groaned and wondered how she was able to affect him so easily.

* * *

They made love through the night three more times. It was the best Casey had done since he was a teenager. The woman was agile and versatile, and Casey pretty much never knew what was going to happen next, which he found incredibly exciting.

When they were resting, they talked and he felt completely at ease doing so. For the first time in his life, including the time before he had become an agent, Casey really opened up to another person. It was very cathartic and he cried again, the woman comforting him as before and allowing him the release he so desperately needed.

Finally, Casey fell asleep, and when he awoke, sunlight was streaming through the holes between the slats of the Venetian blinds, making him blink at its brightness. The woman was gone, and Casey felt a sense of loss for a moment until his nose registered the smell of fresh coffee coming from the kitchen.

He got up and went to the bathroom, relieved himself, and jumped into the shower for a quick refreshing wash. He got out, dried himself off, then brushed his teeth, stopping every once in a while to look in the mirror and admire the grin on his face that didn't seem to want to go away.

Just as he was getting back into bed and pulling up the covers, the woman, once again wearing the green robe, came into the room carrying a tray holding coffee and a large platter of pancakes. Casey cleared a spot on the bedside table and, when she had put the tray down, Casey, gazing hungrily at the tray and licking his lips, said, "I think I love you."

* * *

Breakfast was over. After they had both dressed and tidied up the bedroom, they came downstairs and stood in the middle of the room looking at each other, exchanging a last friendly and knowing smile.

"I saw your calendar in the kitchen. Mark me down for two weeks from yesterday," she remarked.

Casey pouted playfully and said, "Two weeks? How am I going to last two weeks?"

"I left a copy of _Lady Soldier of Fortune_ for you in the bathroom," she quipped, and he laughed as she picked up her bags and turned to the door.

Casey went with her, undid the locks and released the security system, opening the door for her so she could step outside.

"Wait, am I allowed to know your name?" Casey asked hurriedly before she got too far away from the door.

The woman half-turned and, with just the hint of a sly smile, replied, "Melody. Melody Beckman."


	2. Anticipation and Relief

_**Warning: detailed descriptions of explicit heterosexual encounters, autoeroticism, and strong language. Please read or not accordingly.**_

* * *

Chapter 2: Anticipation and Relief

Casey tossed around on his bed and finally gave up trying to sleep, sitting up and digging the heels of his hands into the corners of his eyes. He couldn't clear his head. Melody had only been gone since that morning. He obviously wasn't going to survive until her next visit if he couldn't get any sleep.

Turning on the bedside lamp and getting off of the bed, Casey decided to try a bath to see whether that would help at all. He turned on the taps and checked the water temperature. Slipping off his navy blue dad pajamas, the thought crossed his mind that maybe that was why he couldn't drop off. He decided to try sleeping in the buff when his bath was over and turned the taps back off once the tub was full.

He tested the temperature with his hand and, finding it satisfactory, placed one foot in the tub, then the other, and then sat down in the water, causing a miniature perfect storm to erupt on the surface.

As Casey reclined in the soothing water and tried to relax his overwrought nerves, he began to think about this new arrangement with his so called "secure companion." First of all, she must be General Beckman's daughter. The age was right, and now that he had thought about it, the hair color was right too. Melody probably took more after her father, though, as she only had a hint of her mother's features, which was why Casey hadn't figured it out when he had first met her.

_She certainly doesn't seem to have her mother's temperament_, Casey thought, and his floating penis twitched in agreement.

Thinking, _Why not?_, Casey grasped his member lightly and began the familiar task that had kept him more or less sane for many years. He didn't bother with a magazine this time, though, as the images in his head of a lightly tanned, toned ass and full breasts with perky nipples would be more than adequate stimulation.

He stroked himself with a slightly tighter grip now. His penis filled out and elongated to its full length, the head straining and turning pink as the blood flowed into it and became trapped there by various mysterious muscles and vessels. Casey closed his eyes, licking his lips as he searched his memory to select the best image to work with. Water was starting to splash around and over the side of the tub as Casey got into his work, and he bent his knees upwards and spread his legs apart, using his other hand to cup his scrotum and gently massage his testicles.

It was when she had propped her back up against the headboard of the bed and spread her legs and, using her fingers, revealed that sweet spot to him before they had done it the third time. That's the one that was going to get the job done. Casey played the image over and over again in his mind, increasing the speed of his hand and finally shooting up into the air as he cried out his release. He opened his eyes in time to watch his semen arcing over the water and falling back down, making a satisfying splashing sound as it hit the surface.

Casey smiled to himself and thought, _After all these years of jerking off, it never gets old_, and he pulled the plug from the drain and stood up, drawing the shower curtain across and turning the shower on for a quick rinse-down.

Stepping out of the tub, he dried himself and got back into bed, turning the lamp off and pulling the covers up, taking the time to feel how nice and cool they were on his clean, warm skin. And he fell right to sleep.

* * *

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we only have it in white and blue," explained Casey, using his mild and friendly salesman voice.

"Mom, I want pink. Jasmine has pink. I want pink," the twelve-year-old girl whined, tugging on her mother's sleeve.

It was Monday morning at the Buy More one week later. The woman, who was holding a box containing a cell phone apparently invented by Miley Cyrus, sighed and looked apologetically at Casey through tired eyes. She offered the box back to him, saying, "She wants pink. I'll have to find her pink."

As Casey reached out to take the box, he noticed the woman looking at the muscles in the arm he extended towards her. _Damn polo shirt_, he thought. He wasn't comfortable wearing it, stupid green color. Made him look like the other geeks and misfits that worked at the Buy More. He had noticed, however, that his sales were the highest to middle-aged women and housewives with children, and he made a mental note to remember to take advantage of it.

Casey acknowledged to himself that this woman really had tried to close the sale. To give the poor, beleaguered mother a treat, when he grasped the box, Casey contracted the muscle in his upper arm and watched as the woman's eyes rounded a bit. She finally tore her gaze away and looked into his face again, smiling dazedly as she turned and herded her little girl out of the store. Vibrator manufacturers the world over would thank him if they only knew.

Just then, Big Mike approached and clapped Casey on the back, which made him cringe a bit. He turned to face the man and was surprised when Big Mike smiled up at him. Usually, the two men were pretty much even when it came to being in vile moods and growling at everybody.

"John!" exclaimed Big Mike. "You've done it! You're salesman of the month! Your sales this past week went through the roof and put you miles ahead of everybody else!"

"Oh, uh, that's good, I guess," replied Casey tentatively, not sure what to say.

"It's great!" Big Mike continued. "If you keep this up, I'll be able to take my wife to Paris, and you know that what makes the wife happy makes me very happy."

When Big Mike paused and looked at him expectantly, Casey blurted out, "Yeah, that's good, Paris."

Big Mike, being strangely friendly, continued. "Don't know what you're doing, big guy, but you're on fire. Keep up the good work."

As Big Mike turned away to go back to his office, Casey noticed that a crowd of green shirts and white shirts with ties had collected in small groups a safe distance away to watch the show. When he turned and scowled at them, making sure to include everyone, they rapidly dispersed, and Casey was left alone with his thoughts as he climbed a nearby stocking ladder to finish the task the cell phone woman had interrupted.

Once at the top of the ladder, Casey picked up a roll of UPC stickers. _Fuck_, his brain announced clearly. He paused for a moment to see what this new development was all about. _Fuck_, it repeated. Trying to apply price stickers to the correct boxes, Casey was mystified and distracted when all he could concentrate on was the word _fuck...fuck...fuck._

This must be some primal part of his brain that had been awakened by his night with Melody. He felt a warmth in his loins, not so much that he was embarrassing himself but just enough so that he knew all he wanted was a..._fuck_.

He quickly finished his task, trying to block his busy little vestigial _homo erectus_ brain cells from invading his intelligent, logical _homo sapiens_ brain cells and sabotaging a few million years of – _erectus...erection...fuck_. Well, that obviously wasn't working.

Climbing down from the ladder, Casey decided to try having a snack from one of the vending machines. As he neared the door of the staff room, he heard a group of people talking inside. Pausing in the corridor where he could overhear the conversation, he identified Morgan's whiny voice saying, "Can't be. Not Casey. First of all, what self-respecting woman would have that Neanderthal?"

Jeff was next. "I would," he said.

Trust that weirdo to say something, well, weird.

"But how? When?" asked Lester. "He's always here and Chuck says he lives alone. He's never with anyone long enough for a handshake let alone some heavy sweat action."

Anna's voice added her decisive opinion. "He just has, I know it. He's had sex and lots of it. And some good stuff, too. I can smell it on him."

They all started talking at once, exchanging speculations and opinions. When Casey realized they were coming out of the room, he hurried down the hallway and ducked around the corner. After they had left, he returned to get a chocolate bar from the vending machine. He sat at one of the tables and munched on it, thinking about what he had just heard. If these idiots could see through him, then he would really have to concentrate on acting like his usual badass self.

Casey stood and balled up the chocolate wrapper, launching it into the nearby wastebasket. He swallowed his last mouthful and went back out into the store, lost in reflection and whistling quietly to himself as he neared the Nerd Herd counter.

He stopped short when he realized that not only was Chuck there but Sarah also, and his face flushed a bit under Sarah's close scrutiny. He could see that she had guessed something.

"Why are you in such a good mood, Casey? Get a toy Uzi in your cereal box this morning?" Chuck joked, glancing at Sarah to see if she thought he was funny.

Chuck obviously had guessed something as well, but for all his intelligence about some things, like computers and whatnot, he was still pretty stupid about other things.

"Shut up, Bartowski," Casey growled. He tried to put some extra feeling into it by imagining his hands around Chuck's scrawny neck, and he turned away, figuring he had done a pretty good job.

When Casey glanced back over his shoulder, though, it was to see Sarah, arms crossed in front of her chest, still looking at him with a penetrating gaze. Luckily, she didn't say anything that would tip the King of the Nerds off, and Casey went back to his stocking ladder and climbed up it, where his brain returned immediately to the monotonous repetition of _fuck...fuck...fuck_.

* * *

All the rest of that week, Casey made good on his promise to himself to act like a bastard. He was moody and short and more than usually aggressive with anyone who tried to talk to him. At lunch, he sat at a table in the corner and the others either sat in the opposite corner or, coming into the staff room and seeing him there, would make a hasty retreat and find somewhere else to eat.

Oddly enough, this new level of aggression made his sales go up, and he was more popular with the women and quite a few men than ever. They must have been calling their friends, because a couple of days later, all of a sudden Casey noticed that the customer population was almost all female and the majority of them would ask for him to serve them and wait patiently until he was available, which was really getting the other sales associates pissed.

When Casey came into the Buy More on Friday morning, a strange sight greeted him. The green and white shirts were gathered around the wall just outside Big Mike's office. Approaching them to see what was going on, they scattered like chickens when somebody noticed him coming.

On the wall where they had been standing hung a plaque. _Employee of the Month_ read the brass sign screwed onto the bottom of it, above which was attached a picture of Casey's face, his nasty glare looking out over the Buy More.

Big Mike came up beside him, beaming with pride. He clasped his hands in front of his ample stomach and gazed at the plaque.

"Well, what do you think?" Big Mike asked. "You've had the highest one-week sales in the history of the franchise."

Casey merely shook his head in wonder and grunted, turning away to start his shift.

* * *

It was Saturday, early evening. _The_ Saturday. Casey, feeling a bit like a lovesick fourteen-year-old, was standing behind the door of his apartment, one eye held close to the peephole, waiting for Melody to come back to him.

He reached down and grabbed his crotch when he felt the familiar stirring and immediately regretted doing so. His penis, which had been behaving up until now, had decided that it was time to come out and play, and he clutched onto it, trying to make it stop. His efforts, however, were having the opposite effect, and he could feel his member swelling quickly, creating a rather large bulge under his grip.

_She isn't even here yet and I can't keep it in my pants_, he thought. _What if she's late? What if I blow my load when she comes through the door? Like that time the baby-sitter didn't realize I was too old to need help with my pajamas?_

Casey smiled at the memory and it helped to calm him down just enough so he thought he could make it through the wait.

Just as he was coming to the conclusion that he was a grown man and should maybe try to act like one, Melody came into view, her head of chestnut hair distorted a bit by the lens Casey was looking through. As she raised her hand to knock, Casey whipped the door open, grasped her elbow, gently but quickly drew her inside, and closed the door behind her. Melody was looking up into his face, his eyes intent as he put his hands on the fronts of her shoulders and moved in for a fierce kiss, easing her backwards towards the inside of the door.

Melody, her mouth pliant and willing against his, dropped her bags to the floor. She did not protest when Casey's hands moved to the buttons on her trench coat, and he undid them one by one as his tongue probed the sweetness of her kiss.

When the coat was open, he moved his hands between the two flaps to place his palms on her hips. He abruptly stopped kissing her, however, when he realized his hands were touching naked, warm flesh and not the clothes that he had anticipated.

Casey lifted his head and raised his brows in inquiry. Melody merely smiled at him.

"I'll explain later," she said. "I believe you were in the middle of something?" and she reached for his belt buckle with a hungry look in her eyes.

Casey was more than happy to wait to hear her explanation as he practically tore his tee shirt off and flung it to one side. Melody had taken care of the pants, both sets, and laughed when she noticed he wasn't wearing socks or shoes.

"You're prepared, I see," she commented. "So am I."

Pulling a condom packet out of her pocket, she shrugged the coat to the floor and kicked it to the side. She hurriedly began to apply the condom to Casey's penis, which was jumping around like nobody's business, thick and pulsing.

"Hold still," she instructed.

"I can't," he groaned, and as soon as she had finished the task, he put his arms around her and scooped her up into the air, his hands under her buttocks. She kicked her pumps off and settled her legs around his hips, the opening of her vagina making intermittent contact with the sensitive head of Casey's penis. It took a lot of restraint not to push into her right away as Casey rested her back against the door again. With a desperate and pleading look in his eyes, he asked, "Are you ready?"

"Lubricant," Melody responded.

Casey's brain had become a bit foggy in his excitement and he couldn't connect her reply with the question he had asked.

Melody saw the confusion in his eyes, took pity on the poor guy, and changed her answer to a simple, "Yes."

Casey reached with his fingers between Melody's legs from behind to locate the opening and to make sure he was heading for the right spot. He spread the lips apart and made contact with the ring of muscle just inside of her. Thrusting upwards and, at the same time, dropping the weight of her body downwards onto himself, he allowed gravity to help him out a bit as he rapidly penetrated her to his full length. Melody's sharp gasp and widening eyes made his excitement even more intense, and he buried his face in her hair, his cheek brushing her neck. Moving his head to the side so he wasn't pinning her hair down, he pressed his forehead hard against the door to help with traction.

Casey felt as though he couldn't move fast enough. He wanted more and more of her, and he frantically clenched and unclenched the muscles of his buttocks, pushing hard and fast. He became aware for a moment that Melody's body, as it compressed against the wood each time, was causing the door to thump in a staccato rhythm in its frame, and Casey momentarily hoped that none of the neighbors was passing by on the other side.

He quickly forgot this thought as he worked himself up into a glorious groove, and he turned his head towards Melody's neck to gave her a little nip with the sharp edges of his teeth just over a warm, pulsing artery near the surface. He could tell by the way she suddenly bucked her hips that she had most definitely felt this. She wasn't in any danger of falling, pinioned as she was on Casey's cock and pressed up against the door, and she unhooked her arms from around his neck and scratched his back a bit with her long fingernails in response.

Casey closed his eyes, his jaw slack, mouth open, gasping quickly. His brain was starting to flash lights as he gave one last heave upwards and stopped, suspending Melody in mid-air. He held his breath and grunted loudly as he came, watching the light show in his head. Melody whimpered a bit as she twitched and ground herself down onto him, trying to wring the last bit of pleasure out of the experience.

They both stopped moving, panting heavily, and after about a minute, Casey raised his head. Melody, stroking his hair with her hand, smiled dreamily at him and gave one last spasm that threatened to topple Casey over, since his knees had suddenly turned to jelly.

His penis started shrinking, and he bent his legs and gently lowered his beautiful, sweaty burden, who placed her feet onto the floor, her knees bent and spread, giving him the opportunity to withdraw his limp friend.

Melody went up on tiptoes and quickly kissed the end of Casey's nose as he was still trying to pull himself together. She stooped and picked up her coat and bags and slipped by Casey's hands to go around him and into the apartment, running lightly up the stairs.

Casey, still trying to catch his breath, raised his arm to his forehead and rested both on the back of the door for a moment. Smiling to himself, his breathing finally back to normal, he straightened and removed the condom, tied it off, and picked up his scattered clothes. Dumping them onto the bottom stair, he walked naked into the kitchen, disposed of the used condom in the waste basket under the sink, and poured himself a glass of water, drinking it down greedily.

When he had finished drinking, he wiped away some water that had spilled onto his face with one forearm and put the glass on the countertop. Turning back to the sink, he twisted both taps until warm water was coming out of the faucet, and he splashed some on his genitals, cleaning away the sticky evidence of his recent activities. He walked into the living room, realizing how nice it felt to not have any clothes restricting his movement. He was just thinking to himself, _I should do this more often,_ when Melody came down the stairs.

Casey was actually a little disappointed to see she had dressed, but he took a moment to admire the trim jeans and cap-sleeved tee shirt she had selected. Girly but not slutty. Just the ticket.

She inspected his naked body up and down, a sated look on her face, and he stood up straighter and inhaled deeply, pushing his chest out and making a half-turn that twisted his legs apart while he raised his bent arms into the air and clenched his fists, bunching the large muscles of his upper arms up to an impressive size.

"So what do you think?" he asked, when he thought he had attained a fair approximation of a Greek statue.

"I think you're an ass and you should get dressed," Melody laughed. She went around behind him and put both hands on the small of his back, lowering her head and pushing him towards the stairs. "And I'm going to put that in my report," she added, when she couldn't budge him. He laughed and finally gave in, picking up his bundle of discarded clothes and going to his room.

* * *

After a quick shower, he dressed again and, still barefoot, came back downstairs. Melody had uncorked a bottle of wine that she had brought with her and was in the kitchen searching for glasses when he came up behind her and circled his arms around her waist, kissing her on the top of her head.

He let go of her and opened a cupboard door and, reaching easily up to the top shelf, picked two long-stemmed goblets out and closed the door. Melody went ahead of him into the living room carrying the bottle and poured the wine out after Casey had set the glasses down on the coffee table.

They both sat on the couch and half-turned to face each other, raised their glasses in a silent salute, and drank some of the wine.

"So what made you think to come here wearing only your birthday suit?" Casey asked, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he waited for her reply.

"Well, it's just logical," Melody replied, turning her back to Casey and moving closer so her body fit into the curve of his.

He put his free arm around her shoulders, settling it under her breasts and resting his hand on her opposite hip, pulling her even closer to his chest.

"Women's logic, anyway," Melody continued when she was comfortable again.

"How so?" Casey asked, as he tucked his chin close to his neck so he could smell her hair.

"I figure after what we did before and with a two-week gap, you would have had plenty of time to come up with all kinds of things for us to do," she explained. "And since you're not the shrinking violet type, I thought it was better to be ready."

"You did, did you?" was Casey's amused reply, as he put his wine glass on the table. He pulled Melody's glass out of her hand and set it down as well. Spinning her around and hoisting her up onto his lap, he held her tightly in his arms, placed his mouth firmly over hers, and initiated an old-fashioned wet, slurpy makeout session.


	3. Tender Feelings

_**Warning: detailed descriptions of explicit heterosexual encounters and strong language. Please read or not accordingly.**_

Chapter 3: Tender Feelings

Casey was having a great time. He had forgotten what it was like to just kiss a beautiful woman for an hour or so. And since Melody seemed to be enjoying it too, he pulled out all his old tricks: special techniques that were guaranteed to melt the spandex shorts off of the coldest ice-queen cheerleader.

They had rolled around on the couch and then the floor for a while, getting pretty steamed up, and had somehow, by tacit agreement, set out the ground rules early on. Casey was to try and Melody was to block his moves for a while, eventually giving in eagerly. Then they'd go to the next level. Yeah, just like in the back seat of his second-hand Ford clunker. Casey vaguely remembered something about bases, but since he had usually been successful in advancing around them, he had never really been clear on what each one was.

Anyway, there they were, lying full length on the couch again, glued to each other's faces. Casey's hand snaked down and up underneath Melody's tee shirt. She pulled her mouth away from his and gave a playful shriek as she grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand from her breast.

"No, no, no," she said, laughing, kissing him again when he had stopped struggling against her.

As soon as her grip on his arm relaxed, he changed directions and plunged his hand into her jeans. They were pretty tight and he didn't get very far, so he pulled his hand back out again, held Melody firmly against him so she couldn't squirm out of the way, and managed to quickly and expertly undo the button and slide the zipper down.

Melody could only protest with a muffled, "Mmmpfh," since Casey's tongue was almost completely in her mouth, and she tried to shift her midsection away from him. He easily captured her legs between his and held them still in a vice grip, and he once again went for his goal, inserting his fingers under the edge of her panties until he could feel the wiry confusion of her pubic hair.

Sliding the ends of his fingers over her pubic bone and between her labia, Casey was now able to relax his legs to release Melody's, since he had apparently gained the next level in their game. He withdrew his tongue from her mouth and his hand from her pants, enjoying a new sound of indignation from her. "Stop" had suddenly changed to "don't stop," and she reached down and wriggled out of her jeans, leaving just her flowered panties for protection.

_Oh, yeah, this is great_, Casey thought, and he smiled into Melody's eyes, which had become deep and a little unfocused. Casey raised his hand to his mouth and, making sure she was watching him, wet his fingers with his tongue before he moved his hand downwards once again.

He paused for a moment when he had reached just below Melody's navel and, right on cue, she moaned and grabbed his hand, forcing it into her panties and placing his damp fingers on her clitoris. Keeping her hand over his, they rubbed together slowly, all the while exchanging a warm, tender kiss.

When Melody started to squirm around and tilt her pelvis in the direction of his hand, Casey slipped his fingers into her wet vagina and pushed them in as far as he could. Melody pulled her head back and looked him in the eyes with a look he hadn't seen for a very long time, and Casey's breath caught in his throat for a second at her loveliness.

Still working his fingers inside of her, Casey bent the joints so he was rubbing the front wall up and down with his fingertips. Melody reached down again and frantically pulled her panties right out of the way so she could spread her legs farther apart and give him full access, and he took advantage of this by rolling his fingers in a circular motion, distending her vagina on all sides and eliciting short, sharp cries from the woman.

For the _pièce de résistance_, Casey, hand still engaged, gently disentangled his other arm from Melody and rolled off of the couch to the floor and onto his knees. She reached out for him and whimpered but he carried on, giving her a warm smile, since he knew what was to come.

Melody had only one way to go and that was onto her back on the couch, and she squirmed there, arching her spine, her head tilting back, chin in the air. Casey moved around so he could lift one of her legs over his head and shoulder. He positioned himself as squarely as he could between her thighs while kneeling on the floor, and as he withdrew his hand from her, he substituted his tongue and lips.

Casey carefully explored every part of her he could reach, using different pressures and flicks and motions of his tongue to give Melody the full Casey experience. When she started to moan loudly, he switched tactics, re-inserting his fingers and moving his mouth to her clitoris on the outside, gently licking and sucking the little strip of muscle until it was rock hard.

Since he could tell by the way Melody was moving that she was now wanting her release, he pushed his fingers high into her and took a deep breath through his nose. Holding the air in, he sucked her clitoris gently up into his mouth and began to shake his head rapidly from side to side.

This had an immediate effect and Casey hung on for the ride as Melody jerked and thrashed around on the sofa, first closing her thighs tightly on either side of his head, then spreading her knees far apart, bucking her hips up and down at the intense sensation. Casey had let go with his mouth and withdrawn his fingers, but he knew he was going to have to wait until he could safely get out of her way, and he grunted and smiled when Melody kicked him, her heel making hard contact with his back.

When she had finally settled down to only occasional jerking, Casey ducked his head under her leg and moved back around to her head, still on his knees on the floor, and tenderly brushed the sweat-soaked hair from across her brow. She lay there panting and, when her eyes had finally focused on his, he grinned at her, wiping her juices from his face with his arm. She smiled at him shyly, saying a soft, "Thank you," and raised her hand to brush the backs of her fingers along the edge of his jaw, just the way she had done the first time she had touched him.

"You go wash or something. I'll put supper together," Casey said quietly, very pleased with himself and his ability to please her.

Without replying, Melody got up, gathered her panties and jeans, and went back upstairs. Casey admired every step she took and thought seriously for a moment about a clothing ban for the apartment.

* * *

By the time Melody returned, Casey had already torn Romaine lettuce into a bowl and blended the ingredients together for a Caesar dressing. Two chicken breasts were cooking on his George Foreman grill and a large pot of water was heating for pasta.

"Anchovies?" Casey asked, as Melody walked up behind him and circled his waist with her arms.

She rested the side of her head against his back and sighed, "Yes, please."

He added the strips of salty fish to the blender and whizzed them in, then unhooked Melody's arms from around himself and shooed her out of the kitchen saying he needed room to make his masterpiece.

She went quietly enough and soon the meal was ready. They sat on high stools along the edge of the kitchen countertop and ate their salad and linguine with chicken and pesto sauce, drinking some more wine and talking as they ate.

"This is nice," Melody commented, raising a forkful of salad to her mouth. "You're quite the chef."

Casey, using his tongue to push a mouthful of pasta into one cheek, pointed his fork at her and said, "This is nothing. There's a great place just on the edge of town. Little Italian restaurant. The chef there really knows his stuff."

"Well, why don't we go there sometime, then?" Melody suggested brightly.

"Are we allowed to do that?" Casey asked. His eyes widened and he sat up straighter on his stool. He felt like a kid who had just been given tickets to the circus. Melody wanted to go out with him. He would have the chance to show her off and show her a good time outside of the bedroom.

"Sure," Melody replied. "At least I think so. Let me check with my boss first and get an official clearance on it. I'll let you know ahead of time what his decision is."

"Well," Casey said, laughing, "at least I don't have to meet your parents and promise to have you home by ten."

Casey watched carefully for Melody's reaction. She lowered her eyes and flushed slightly, but that was all he could make out. He decided to drop it, not wanting to ruin their evening together, and put his fork down so he could pour more wine. He changed the subject by launching into a funny story about his old platoon and a rubber chicken. Melody was soon clutching her stomach and screaming with laughter, tears rolling down her face, and Casey began to feel impatient for their supper to be over so they could go upstairs again.

* * *

Instead of jumping on her this time, Casey took Melody into the bathroom where he removed her clothes and then his own. He turned the shower on and tested the water temperature before helping Melody to step into the tub, holding her elbow as though he were escorting her to a grand ball.

Casey followed Melody in, drawing the shower curtain and then turning to circle his arms around her, making sure she was standing under the warm water so she wouldn't get cold. Picking up the soap, he lathered his palms and handed the bar to her. He began to smooth the bubbles over her skin, almost reverent in his tenderness. Melody lathered up her hands and returned the favor, and they kissed as they applied soap all over each other, letting the warm water cascade down their slippery bodies.

Casey then turned the agent carefully under the stream of water to rinse her off. He let her spin him around too until the last of the soap bubbles were washed down the drain. He turned the shower off and they both got out of the tub, and before Melody could begin to shiver, Casey wrapped her in a big, fluffy towel, buffing her skin with strong hands until she was dry.

He pulled another towel from a shelf and quickly dried himself, wrapping it around his waist and tucking the loose end in. Melody had gotten a comb out of her purse and was going to attack her wet hair when Casey grabbed it out of her hand and gave her a mock warning look when she spun around to protest. Smiling, Melody followed Casey out into the bedroom and sat in the chair he indicated to her, pulling her towel tightly around her shoulders.

Casey picked up a length of Melody's hair and expertly combed it out, laying the wet strands back down and continuing around her head until all the tangles were gone. Melody luxuriated in the unexpected pampering, closing her eyes and relaxing, feeling warm and cozy in the towel.

Experiencing an overwhelming rush of tenderness as he looked at Melody, Casey picked her up from the chair, towel and all, and carried her over to the bed, where he laid her down. As he stripped off his towel and threw it to the floor, Melody lifted her hips up and drew her towel out from under herself, tossing it to land on top of Casey's. She found the edge of the covers and pulled them down so she could crawl under them, holding them up so Casey could join her.

Lying in the bed in silence, looking into each other's eyes, Casey knew that all he wanted right now was to hold Melody in his arms and keep her safe. He wasn't thinking about sex at the moment or planning their future night out together. He wasn't thinking about much of anything, really. Just holding her to his body and breathing was enough. It was enough.

* * *

They fell asleep and, when they awoke, kissed briefly and sat up in the bed, arranging the pillows along the head board to make a nice, soft nest. Melody snuggled in under Casey's arm and they very naturally fell into conversation, Casey, hesitantly at first and then more fluently, telling Melody about his childhood. One remembrance led to another, and, two hours later, Casey suddenly fell quiet again, as though he had simply run out of stories to tell her.

After a couple of minutes, Casey turned his face downwards to look into Melody's and asked, "What have you put in your reports about me?"

"Do you really want to know?" she inquired.

"Only if you're allowed to tell me," was Casey's reply. "I don't want to get you in trouble with your boss."

Melody, who had been absently stroking and playing with the hair on Casey's chest as she had listened to him, stopped moving her hand and pulled her body away from Casey's so she could look at his face more clearly.

"If you're serious about wanting to know, I have a copy of my report with me," she stated.

"Sure," Casey replied. "I'd like to see."

Melody left the bed and went to where her carryall was lying on the floor. She unzipped it and extracted a sheaf of papers that was stapled in one corner and brought it over, handing it to Casey as she slipped back under the covers he was holding up for her and crawling over his thighs.

"Hey, watch it," he said, as she accidentally-on-purpose brushed his penis with her fingers on the way by. "I'm not out of gas yet, you know."

"I certainly hope not," Melody returned, snuggling back into the still-warm spot she had temporarily vacated and pulling Casey's arm back around her shoulders.

She watched the side of his face as Casey placed the report on his lap and flipped the pages with one hand to read through the document. When he reached the end, he turned over the final page and stared blankly at the back of the report, deep in thought.

Coming back out of his thoughts, Casey turned to Melody and asked, "Why are parts crossed out with black marker?"

"Those are my analyses," she explained. She continued to watch him as he thought about her reply for a few moments.

"Are you going to tell me what they are?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.

"No," she replied.

He picked up the report and threw it to the floor, then started tickling Melody with the hand that was already around her, putting his other arm under the covers so he could attack her ribs from both sides.

"Are you sure?" he asked, continuing to tickle her as she laughed and squirmed against him.

It wasn't long before Melody's hand was in contact with Casey's penis again, and because she was using this as a defense tactic against his unrelenting tickling, it was only a matter of a minute before he was hard again, kissing her and trying to touch as much of his body against hers as he possibly could.

They moved around under the covers, legs entwined. As Casey kissed first Melody's hair, then her face, lips, neck and finally lowered his head to her breast and sucked on one of her nipples, he was suddenly startled by an overwhelming urge to say something he had said to a couple of other women but had never really believed.

He raised his head from Melody's breast and moved to once again nuzzle her neck. Placing his lips close to her ear, eager to see how it felt to say it out loud and sincerely mean it, he whispered, "I love you."

* * *

Casey opened his eyes the next morning and smiled as he remembered their coupling after his heartfelt confession.

He had handled Melody like a fragile doll, kissing her tenderly over and over again. When he had finally penetrated her and reached the beginning of his climax, he had experienced a rush of blood and oxygen to his head that felt transcendental, lifting him up to another plane of sensation that he had never reached before. And when they were spent, he had cradled her in his arms and talked again, this time not about the past but about the future and what he imagined their life would be like together.

Casey hadn't planned this at all. Up until Melody had come into his life, he had assumed his future would be a long string of missions, maybe not so long if a bullet got him first. But listening to his own voice, he began to believe in this fantastic, unfamiliar life and warmed to the telling.

Melody hadn't participated in his musings; she had simply lain next to him passively, listening to the account of his dreams.

Now it was Sunday, and Casey rolled over cautiously, hoping to catch Melody still sleeping so he could watch her breathing. He was disappointed, however, when all he found was a cold, dented pillow. Tentatively sniffing the air, he discovered no smell of coffee or pancakes, and he began to feel a bit of alarm. He sat up and looked around the room, immediately noticing that her bags were not in the spot he had last remembered them. Getting up out of the bed and hurrying into the bathroom, Casey searched with his eyes for any clue that would reassure him that she was still in the apartment. Finding nothing, he grabbed a Japanese silk robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and shoved his arms through the sleeves as he ran downstairs.

"Melody?" he called out, looking quickly around the living room and finally going into the kitchen.

She was gone.

Walking over to the island countertop, Casey found his calendar lying there. The date of the Saturday two weeks following was circled and underneath that, in Melody's handwriting, were the words, _Dinner out_.

Casey smiled and picked up the calendar, relief flooding through his body as he re-read the words. Sitting on a kitchen stool, he began to feel his old confidence once again. She would be back.

* * *

Standing in front of the small monitor in the Wienerlicious, Sarah was wrapping up their debriefing as Chuck and Casey stood on either side of her watching General Beckman and Director Graham via the screen.

The mission hadn't been anything too complicated, not national security level, and Team Bartowski had carried it off without much fuss. General Beckman, impressed, thanked Sarah for her report.

Turning her head to look at Casey, the general stated, "Major, we're particularly pleased with your work lately. I was wondering if you know what has prompted this improvement."

Casey, taken off guard, hesitated and allowed a look of panic to form on his face.

"Uh, what do you mean, General?" he finally managed to spit out before flushing and lowering his eyes to the floor.

"Well, I just thought whatever it is that maybe we could bottle it and pass it out to our other agents," she joked.

Pausing when Casey continued to look at the floor, she added, eyebrows raised, "I didn't realize you were so modest, Major."

The general turned her head upwards to look at Director Graham, who was returning her a look that said, _He's hiding something._

Recovering himself, Casey assured the general and Director Graham that nothing was out of the ordinary and that he was only doing his duty, ma'am, and some other official-sounding nonsense, and they concluded the debriefing and signed off.

Sarah was looking carefully at Casey through narrowed eyes after this performance, and he adopted his usual gruff, rude stance to ward her off once again. Chuck and Casey returned to the Buy More to finish their shift, leaving Sarah in the Wienerlicious still trying to figure out what was going on. Thankfully, Chuck was oblivious, and he nattered on about some video game while they walked back. Casey grunted now and then, pretending to listen.

* * *

Just before closing time, when the rest of the staff was busy herding customers out through the front door and searching for stragglers in the aisles, Sarah confronted Casey near the back of the Buy More.

"What is up with you?" she demanded.

He tried to sidestep her but she was too quick for him, and she blocked his path, arms crossed over her chest. Casey recognized her terrier look and decided it was easier not to tangle with her when she was in this mood.

He turned his head in all directions to make sure nobody was watching them. Then, taking Sarah's hand, he pulled her around the corner into the hallway and yanked open the door of a utility closet, hustling her inside and closing the door behind them. He flicked on the light switch and looked at her dumbly, unsure of what to say.

Sarah looked at him quizzically.

"Casey, you've been weird lately," she began. "I'm worried about you."

Casey raised his finger to his lips and whispered, "Not so loud."

Sarah, rolling her eyes, decided to play along so she could get to the bottom of whatever it was. Lowering her voice to a whisper as well, she hissed, "Are you going to tell me what's going on or not?"

"Walker, believe me," he whispered, "everything's fine. You'll just have to trust me."

He noted the skeptical look in her eyes and decided to continue.

"The NSA has been sending a shrink, that's all. Just routine maintenance. They call it a 'secure analyst,'" he explained, remembering not to show Sarah by any telltale twitches or blinks that he had made a slight alteration in the title.

"Oh, is that all?" said Sarah, relieved. "The CIA sends one of those to me too occasionally."

"They do?" said Casey, his surprise evident in the high arching of his eyebrows as his voice went up on the second word. "What's his name?"

"_Her_ name," corrected Sarah, "is Nadine."

Casey spluttered a bit at this morsel of information and finally spit out, "Her – what – you –"

"Yeah," Sarah interjected. She smiled brightly and continued, "We've become really good friends. We go shopping and get our hair done together. It's really great to have another woman to hang out with that I don't have to lie to. It's done me a world of good."

Luckily for Casey, Sarah had turned to the door and placed her hand on the knob before asking, "What's your guy's name?"

"Oh, uh, Mel. Yeah, Mel," he replied, the lie clear on his face this time. "He's great. You know, we do guy things. The gym and whatever."

"That must be fun!" Sarah exclaimed, turning her head around to smile at him.

"Oh, it is, it is. You have no idea," Casey said, smiling back.

Sarah opened the door a crack and checked to see if the corridor was still empty. Discovering that it was, she opened the door wider as Casey flicked off the light switch, and he followed her out just as Chuck came around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them emerging from the closet, a confused look on his face.

"Spy stuff," grunted Casey, as he and Sarah walked around Chuck and into the main part of the store, leaving him standing there with his mouth hanging open.


	4. First Date

_**Warning: detailed descriptions of explicit heterosexual encounters and strong language. Please read or not accordingly.**_

Chapter 4: First Date

Casey put the cardboard box full of replacement toner cartridges back on the shelf when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out and flipping the top open, he checked the number and then glanced around the stockroom to determine that he was alone before pushing the button to answer the call.

"Casey, secure," he said, and smiled as he heard Melody's voice on the other end of the line reply, "Beckman, secure."

"Hi," he said, tenderly. "I missed you when I woke up. Did you get a call?"

He paused as he listened to the answer and chuckled lightly into the phone, throwing his head back a bit and raising his free hand to his mouth, using his fingers to try and smooth away the large grin that was starting to form at the corners.

"You got my message? Good. Uh-huh, uh-huh. Got it. I'll meet you there."

Casey paused for a moment and cleared his throat a bit. Lowering his voice even more to just above a whisper, he said, "I'll be counting the seconds until I see you again."

Disconnecting the call and folding the phone, Casey put it back into his pocket and picked up the box of toner from the shelf once again. He turned and began quietly whistling a cheerful tune, a spring in his step as he took the box out to the main part of the store.

When he had left, Morgan's head slowly emerged from behind a pile of boxes in the stockroom cage. His lipstick-smeared mouth was formed in an "O" of surprise, his eyes wide as he stared at the doorway that Casey had just gone through.

Anna's face appeared beside his. With a smug smirk, she said, "I told you so."

* * *

_Shit, shave, shower, shine_. Casey repeated the old bachelor's mantra to himself as he prepared for his big date. He had taken care of the first three and was now doing a final buff on his black dress shoes, rubbing the cloth briskly back and forth. His muscles remembered this task, the one that he had performed so many times when he was still in uniform. It was a comforting, Zen-like routine for Casey, like cleaning his guns.

When he had finished, he lined the shoes up on top of the newspaper he had spread on the floor for the purpose and put the cleaning tools away. He already had on his boxers (the purple paisleys) and long black dress socks, and he turned and picked up the black undershirt that he had laid out on the bed, shoving his arms through the sleeves and pulling the shirt up and over his head.

Don't forget the cologne.

Casey walked over to the high-boy dresser and pulled the third drawer from the top towards himself. Tucked into the back of the drawer was one of the secret weapons from his youth. Casey and his friends had nicknamed it "the panty remover." He didn't get a chance to use it very often anymore, but that was okay. It was very potent and called for judicious application.

He pulled the dark orange box from the drawer and opened one end, slipping the glass bottle out into his hand. _Jōvan Musk for Men_, the label read, and he held the collar of the tee shirt away from his neck, spraying it sparingly onto the top of his chest and then into the crooks of his elbows. Sometimes the old things were still the best.

After putting on a dark blue cotton button-down shirt, Casey fastened most of the buttons and walked over to the closet. Sliding the door on the right open and pulling out a garment bag hanger, he carried it over to the bed, laying it down carefully so as not to cause any wrinkles.

He undid the zipper and pulled out a pair of tailored black trousers, putting them on and tucking his shirt in all around before doing up the fly. Next, a belt, then sitting down to slip on his shoes and tie them up, and finally the tailored black sport jacket that he also took out of the clothes bag.

Turning from side to side to check himself out in the full-length mirror on the closet door, Casey admired the slight sheen of the satin finish on his shirt and made a few small adjustments and rearrangements. Finally, when he was satisfied with his work, he turned and picked up his wallet, car keys and some loose change from the dresser and stowed them away in various pockets. All that remained now was to try and quell the butterflies that were waking up in his stomach, and a few slow, deep breaths took care of it.

Sophisticated, urbane, intelligent, well-dressed grown man with first-date jitters. Imagine that.

* * *

Casey parked the car by the curb in front of a flower shop and got out. As he swung the door to the store open, a little bell tinkled and an elderly woman emerged from a back room, drying her wet hands on a towel that hung at her waist.

"May I help you, sir?" the woman asked, admiring the vital younger man in front of her, who was turning to look around the shop. Appraising his smart clothing and neat appearance and finding nothing wanting, she added, "I can see this is to be a special evening," as Casey finished his survey and turned back around to look at the woman.

"Yes, a _very_ special evening," he replied, a twinkle in his eyes. "And I'm guessing you can give me something that will make it even more special, am I right?"

The woman smiled at him and the years fell away from her face, giving Casey the impression that she had been quite a looker in her day.

"I've got just the thing," she said, coming out from behind the counter and hurrying over to a far corner.

* * *

Melody was waiting for him just inside the door of the restaurant, as they had planned. When Casey opened the door and saw her face light up at the sight of him, he felt like the most fortunate man in the world. Now he wanted everyone else to see what a lucky bastard he was, and he kissed Melody lightly and smiled into her upturned face.

Just as he was about to straighten up, she grasped his upper arm and whispered into his ear, "You look edible," while closing her eyes and inhaling his scent, a cat-and-cream look around her mouth. She then turned away, letting go of his arm.

Casey followed Melody into the restaurant proper and walked to where the maître d' was standing, a waiter hovering behind him holding menus.

"Good evening, sir, ma'am," the man said. "Your reservation, please?"

"Johnson," Casey replied.

"Very good, Mr. Johnson. Your table is ready. May I take your wrap, ma'am?" he inquired.

Melody unfastened a clasp at her neck and handed over a lightweight hooded cape. Casey stopped breathing and gaped at her for a moment before regaining his composure. But he still couldn't stop himself from staring at what he saw.

Melody was wearing a simple jade-green silk dress of the same fabric as the robe she had worn on that first night. It was perfect for her coloring and set off both her hair and skin well. She must have used an awful lot of Hollywood tape to make the thing stay in place, though, what there was of it.

First of all, there was no back to the dress, and it scooped down to the top of her buttocks where the fabric outlined her bottom without seeming to actually touch her skin. And when she turned around to smile at Casey and let him see the front, he was mesmerized by the sight of a neckline that could almost be called a waistline. The round, ripe curves of her breasts, also just barely brushed by the fabric, held his attention for a moment until he swept his eyes upwards past the thin gold chain around her neck to the soft waves of chestnut hair, gold drop earrings that twinkled in the restaurant's subdued lighting, and finally to Melody's dark eyes, her mischievous look telling Casey that she knew every eye in the room, men's and women's, were on her.

Including those of the maître d' and the waiter.

Casey cleared his throat to get their attention, and the waiter led them to their table.

It was an old-fashioned banquette around a semi-circular table, and Melody sat at one end of the "U" while Casey sat at the other.

Casey was gazing at Melody instead of reading his menu. He was trying to figure out how she could be even sexier with clothes than without when he suddenly remembered the flowers he had brought for her.

"These are for you," he said, handing her a small box.

Melody opened the box and pulled out a dozen tiny red tea roses tied up with a blue silk ribbon. She looked up at him and he flushed at the joy in her eyes.

"John, thank you. You're very sweet. They're beautiful."

She looked down at the table and paused for a moment, her brow clouded in concentration.

"But nothing like this is on your psych file," she said, looking up at Casey again.

"Well, I've got to keep you guessing about something. You know almost everything about me in advance. I'm glad I could surprise you," he replied, smugly pleased that his plan had worked.

"Don't worry," Melody said enigmatically, "there have been lots of other surprises already."

* * *

Casey leaned back into the upholstery of the banquette and relaxed his shoulders. Dinner had been perfect, and he smiled contentedly as he looked past the candlelight at Melody's face. The warm flickering was very flattering to the already-lovely woman, and she reached to the base of her neck to fiddle with the delicate chain of gold lying there, immediately focusing Casey's attention away from her face and onto her plunging neckline and exposed cleavage, and he began casually checking to see if he could discern her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress.

Melody, who was onto him in a flash, helped him out by sitting up a little straighter and giving him an unobstructed view of the whole package. Casey knew for sure that he had been found out when she crossed her arms in front of herself and rested them on the surface of the table, quickly flicking her thumbs over her breasts to make her nipples stand out in bold relief, and Casey surreptitiously reached under the table to adjust his pants, which were beginning to feel a little binding on his genitals.

Bringing his hand back up to the surface of the table, he picked up his brandy glass and raised it to his lips, all the while keeping his eyes on Melody's face, basking in her femaleness, and she tilted her head downwards and looked at him with a little half-smile through her long lashes, cat's eyes glowing.

"John," she stated.

"What?" he asked, innocently.

"Are you being a bad boy?"

"A little. Wait for a bit. I'll be really bad later," he replied, smiling again and taking another sip of brandy.

"Well," Melody declared, standing up and putting her napkin on the table, "I'm going to the ladies' room. I'll be back in a jiff."

She slung the strap of her evening bag over her shoulder and Casey turned his head so he could stare openly at her retreating butt, not caring whether anyone else in the restaurant noticed or not. He made another little adjustment and sighed.

Finishing off his brandy and allowing his mind to wander just a bit as he replayed the image of Melody's very alluring backside, he was startled when the waiter suddenly appeared in front of him and asked, "More brandy, sir?"

"No, that's all," Casey managed to growl out, and the waiter whisked the empty glass away just as Melody returned.

Instead of sitting in her previous seat on the other end of the banquette opposite him, she motioned with her hand that he was to scoot over so she could sit beside him. She settled into the new spot and draped the tablecloth so it was hanging neatly again.

Casey put his arm along the top of the banquette behind her. Then, leaning down and over, he brought his head close to Melody's upturned face and paused for a moment, his lips a half-inch away from hers, building his anticipation. Finally dropping his head the rest of the way, he very lightly touched his lips to hers, giving her a whisper of a kiss before drawing his head away and back up.

As he straightened his spine to sit square to the table once again, he was surprised and pleased to feel Melody's fingers touching his thigh, hidden by the tablecloth. Which was a good thing, because his response was almost violent. His already slightly turgid penis jerked and swelled as she slipped her hand in an arc over the taut muscle of his leg and grasped the thickening shaft through the fabric. Luckily, she applied only a little bit of pressure and no friction so Casey was able to keep himself under some kind of control.

His training at the NSA had been so thorough that the agent part of his brain was still able to think analytically in a time of crisis. Casey was fairly sure that when the instructors at the Academy had said "crisis," they had been talking about gunfire barrages or trying to escape capture, but this one was starting to be pretty much up there on a sliding scale for tests of his skills.

Casey's immediate thought was, _What exactly is in my file? She even knows what side I dress on!_, and he was somewhat relieved when the waiter came into view once again.

"Shall I bring the dessert menu, sir?" he asked. "I have a lovely tray of cakes I can show you."

"Uh, no, thanks," Casey croaked. He turned a bit and looked at Melody. "Do you want some dessert?"

"No, thank you," she said, in a voice that sounded completely normal in contrast to Casey's.

Casey could tell the waiter had noticed what was going on, and why not? This kind of thing probably happened all the time in such a nice, romantic place, and his suspicions were confirmed when the waiter's eyes flicked downwards in the general direction of Casey's lap. When he raised them again, he shot Casey a _Some guys have all the luck_ kind of look.

However, when the waiter continued speaking, he said, "I'll just get the check, then, shall I? I hope you enjoyed your visit and that you will come again."

Raising his eyebrows slightly on the last few words, he turned and went to draw up their account.

The double entendre was not lost on Melody and she snorted quietly with laughter, let go of Casey's penis and withdrew her hand. Casey smiled at the joke but took the opportunity while Melody stood and resumed her former seat to give a really good tug on his pants leg and will himself to not go into full boner mode.

* * *

When the waiter brought the check, Casey merely glanced at it and peeled off several bills to throw onto the table. He and Melody stood, and Casey grabbed the startled woman's hand as he turned to leave. By the time they had quickly collected her cape and gotten to the door, he was practically dragging her out of the restaurant in his haste, and he was sure he heard the waiter sniggering from behind them.

Casey drove them to a nearby hotel. He had booked a room previously by phone, and after they signed in, they got into an elevator and turned to face the closing doors. Casey held onto Melody's hand once more as he watched the numbers light up on the button panel. He wanted to do something else entirely, something involving heat and sweat and torn panties, but, being a spy, he knew that probably every single elevator in the world had a camera in it. He wasn't about to fuel the erotic dreams of some pimply security guard in the basement. No way. Not with his woman.

* * *

Casey was just about to start swearing in frustration. Finally, he managed to slip the key card into the slot and wrench down the door handle. When they got into the room, he immediately began taking his clothes off, flinging them in different directions, no longer worried about wrinkles.

Melody calmly stood in the middle of the room, slipped out of her shoes and peeled off her dress, confirming Casey's prior suspicion that there were no panties to tear.

Casey paused for a moment to look at this stunning woman, standing there modestly like a Venus, still wearing her gold jewelry. His erection filled out the final couple of inches as he took in every detail, and he could see by the swelling of her nipples and her quickening breathing that she enjoyed watching him react to her as well.

Then something strange started to happen. Casey was suddenly trembling all over, uncontrollably, and his fine cock began to rapidly droop and point downwards. Melody rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his head when he bowed it in embarrassment and confusion, and Casey clung to her and held her body tightly to his as he continued to shake.

Melody gently led Casey over to the bed, pulled down the covers and got him to crawl under, sliding in beside him when he had done so, all the while cooing soft, comforting sounds into his ear.

When his shaking had finally subsided, he raised his head and, eyes full of sorrow, said to Melody, "I'm so, so sorry. I just wanted you so much. I don't know what happened."

"What do you think it might be?" Melody asked, a hint of the professional analyst in her face.

Casey exploded, suddenly angry.

"How the fuck do I know? You're the shrink; you figure it out!"

He tore the covers back and jumped off of the bed on the other side, leaving Melody sitting there with a surprised look on her face. Going over to the mini bar, Casey wrenched the door open and pulled out all the airline-sized bottles of scotch he could find. He frantically unscrewed the tops from two of the bottles and poured both into a glass that was on a nearby table. Tossing it off neat, he reached for the next two bottles and poured them out, glowering first at his hands and then the floor.

Still drinking but a little more slowly now, Casey polished off a third and then a fourth pair of little bottles of scotch and was looking around for more when Melody got up from the bed and approached him from behind, tentatively reaching out a hand and placing her palm on his back.

"John," she said, a worried frown on her face.

When Casey turned around to look at her, she could see tears in the corners of his eyes, and she once again led him over to the bed and coaxed him under the covers. She got another glass and went to the bathroom to get him some water, returning just as the liquor hit him. Taking it in so fast had not been such a good idea after all.

Casey drank the water down, splashing a fair bit of it on the bed. He handed the glass to Melody before it slipped out of his grip, and when she got back into bed, he put his arms around her and squeezed so hard he pushed the breath out of her lungs.

"Not so tight, John," she told him, and he loosened his grip on her and began apologizing profusely.

Melody put a palm on either side of his head and tried to get him to focus. His eyes were a little bleary, but the effect of the scotch seemed to be more emotional than physical, and Casey started to ramble in a low voice.

Melody had to strain at first to try and make out what he was saying, and after a couple of minutes, it became clear that he was telling her another story from his childhood.

"I was there," Casey said weakly. "I was there and she went away. She went away and didn't tell me and I knew she was never coming back."

"Who, John?" Melody asked. "Who went away?"

"She said she was coming back and she didn't. She didn't!"

He was yelling again and Melody quickly tried to calm him down and keep him talking.

"Was it your mother, John? Was that who it was?"

Melody was taking a stab in the dark on this one. Something like this would have been in his file, wouldn't it? She was puzzled why it hadn't been and unsure how to proceed.

Casey made the decision for her.

He looked her in the face with a darkly petulant expression and asked, accusingly, "You're going to leave me too, aren't you?"

Not waiting for an answer, Casey pushed Melody down onto the bed. He had recovered his erection in spite of the alcohol after this latest surge of anger, and Melody had to scramble to retrieve her purse, pull out a condom and get it in place before Casey entered her. She could have used a little more preparation, and she winced with pain as he shoved himself in roughly and way too fast.

Seeing her expression, all the fight went out of Casey. He drew his penis out again and rolled over onto his back beside her, covering his face with his arm and sighing heavily. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He was so ashamed of what he had done but didn't know how to begin to apologize for it.

Melody held him in her arms once more until he fell asleep. When Casey woke a couple of hours later, he had recovered from the alcohol intake and got up to pee, returning to the side of the bed when he had finished. Once there, he saw Melody's look of compassion, and it almost broke his heart. Why wasn't she mad at him? Why didn't she just throw him out, the way he deserved?

Casey sat down on the side of the bed, taking both of Melody's hands in his.

"This night was going to be so special, so perfect," he said, regretfully.

"It has been special and perfect," she replied, jiggling his hands a bit so he would raise his head and look at her face again. "We're here now. Let's just forget any unpleasantness."

And then with clear eyes looking directly into his, she said it too.

"I love you, John."

Casey couldn't believe his ears. He looked at her for a moment, dumbfounded, then kissed her very gently.

Pulling his face away from hers, he smiled at Melody tenderly, saying, "Doesn't this compromise your analysis?"

"To hell with the analysis," came the husky reply, and Melody launched herself into his arms.

* * *

Casey, now completely recovered, was sitting naked on a chair with an equally naked Melody, her legs spread apart and hooked around his thighs, her back towards him. He had decided that he had been very selfish sexually during most of their short relationship and wanted to do something nice for her so she would remember their date not for the bad things that had happened but for the amazing, wonderfully good things.

Melody squirmed around and raised her hand over and behind her head to capture Casey's, and she brought it down to the side of her neck as he gently caressed her labia and vaginal opening with the fingers of both hands. Moving one hand up to a breast, he kneaded it lightly and fondled the nipple while sucking gently on her earlobe, stopping occasionally to rub his cheek up and down her neck.

As Casey's breaths into her ear became rapid and shallow, Melody moved around even more, making it difficult for Casey to keep his fingers in place. She leaned backwards and moaned when she felt his hard cock behind her back, and she managed to raise herself up and, using her hands, guide him into her, slowly pushing back down until she had his full length.

Casey licked his lips and panted erratically as Melody raised herself up slowly and back down again even more slowly. Casey wanted her to move faster, but there was nothing he could do about it; Melody was in complete control now, and he gave himself up to her.

Slowly, up and down, now barely moving, now jerking sharply, she pumped him, reaching around again for his head and arching her neck backwards. Just as Casey thought he might come, she moved all the way upwards so his throbbing member lost its connection. Casey whimpered as the cool air hit him, and he stood and picked Melody up, turning to lay her down on the bed.

He got down beside her and was about to mount her when she pushed his shoulders back and towards the side, pinning him down on the bed. She wasn't finished with him yet, apparently, and since it was her turn, Casey waited passively while she covered his penis with another condom.

Starting suddenly, he realized that they had forgotten to use one earlier, and he was about to apologize when Melody shushed him and said, "I also studied your medical chart. It's just for extra birth control. Don't worry."

She straddled Casey, this time facing him, and began her slow, controlled pumping again. Almost immediately switching to a faster rhythm, she grabbed Casey's hands and put them on her breasts, giving him a fierce look as she turned her full attention to pleasuring herself on her lover.

And that's what he was. He had thought of her as his woman earlier. Now he was her man, and he didn't want it any other way.

At that thought, Casey felt a series of massive waves move along his penis and he cried out loudly as he came, Melody's kiss silencing his cry as her hips continued to work for a few seconds more before slowing to a stop, her eyes sparkling and chest heaving.

* * *

They spent another couple of hours at the hotel, talking quietly about nothing in particular, gazing into each other's eyes, caressing and kissing. When it was time to go, they got up and had a quick shower together, dressing again and going down to the lobby to check out. In the parking lot, walking to the car, they simply held hands, no longer talking.

As Casey drove them back to the restaurant so Melody could pick up her car, he looked at her occasionally out of the side of his eye. Finally, he decided to just ask her outright.

"When are you coming back?" he blurted out, flushing a bit when he had done so.

Melody avoided his glances by looking out the passenger window. She raised her hand to her mouth and almost began biting her thumbnail but caught herself in time and lowered the hand to her lap, turning her head to see if Casey had noticed.

"We'll see," she said, and it was the only answer Casey was going to get.

He glanced to the side again when it was safe to take his eyes off the road for a moment, saying, "But you will be back, won't you? It's different now, isn't it?"

Melody turned her face towards him, a faraway look in her eyes, and said, "Yes, it is different now, John. Very different."

Casey smiled and his nervousness vanished. He had been so afraid before, but now he was sure she wouldn't leave him.


	5. Tangled Web

_**Warning: detailed descriptions of explicit heterosexual encounters, including some sexual violence and strong language. Please read or not accordingly.**_

Chapter 5: Tangled Web

Casey frowned, and the reflection of his face in the bathroom mirror frowned back at him as he remembered what had happened that past weekend at the hotel. He had almost fucked everything up royally. What a jerk!

Then he recalled the image of Melody's face when she had forgiven him and told him about her feelings and his frown vanished, replaced by a look of calm confidence and a certainty that their future together was going to be very good indeed, and he flicked off the bathroom light switch and went downstairs.

* * *

During the last few days at the Buy More, Casey had lapsed back into the dull routine of inventory, pricing and keeping an eye on Chuck. Now that his emotions had stopped alternating between the heights of euphoria and the depths of despair, Casey found it hard to muster his nasty, aggressive persona at will, and his previous customers drifted away to the other associates when he had lost his appeal.

After the first week, Big Mike called Casey into his office. On his way through the door, Casey noticed that the _Employee of the Month_ plaque now held a picture of the dorky kid with the red afro who looked like Napoleon Dynamite. Oh, well, easy come, easy go.

Casey's picture was lying on top of Big Mike's desk. It was a bit crumpled and the edges had been torn during its unceremonious removal from the plaque. As Casey folded his large frame into the small plastic stacking chair opposite, Big Mike picked the photo up gingerly by one corner and dropped it into the waste basket by the side of the desk, a look on his face as though he were handling biohazardous material. He then laced his fingers together, rested his arms on the edge of the desk in front of himself and frowned.

"Associate Casey," he began, "I'm disappointed in you. Your sales are in the crapper. I had you pegged for bigger things and you've let me down. And my wife is never going to forgive me now for reneging on that trip to Paris."

He paused and looked at Casey with a hard, unyielding stare to underline his next point. "This situation is not helping to improve my mood at all."

Casey, who appeared to be sitting passively and taking in everything Big Mike had to say to him with attentive interest was, in reality, doing his own inventory. It was a mental catalog of objects in the room that he could use to hurt the Buy More manager if he chose to, really hurt him, even kill him, and that inventory included Casey's bare hands.

Adopting a sincere tone, Casey said, "I'm sorry about that, Big Mike. I'll try to do better."

"Well, there's one thing I'll say for you, John Casey," Big Mike declared, "at least you have respect for authority, not like some of these other minimum-wagers, and for that, you deserve my respect. I'm giving you a second chance."

Big Mike stood and came around the desk, offering his hand to Casey for a shake. When Casey slowly stood and looked down, towering over the shorter man, he admitted to himself that Big Mike _was_ aware of the importance of order and discipline. Since the man's file didn't contain any information about previous military service, Casey's curiosity got the better of him and, shaking Big Mike's hand, he inquired, "Where did you serve, sir?"

Big Mike straightened his spine and puffed out his chest. "Boy Scout leader for fifteen years," he replied, the immense pride evident in his voice.

Casey released his grip and, snapping to attention, raised his right hand to his shoulder, palm out, and pointed three fingers upwards in the Boy Scout sign.

"Be Prepared, sir," he said, as Big Mike returned the signal.

When Casey had turned to go, he could hear Big Mike comment to himself, "I knew there was a reason I liked that guy."

* * *

Walking into the store proper, Casey pulled up short when he saw Sarah coming in through the front sliding doors wearing that ridiculous Wiener Girl outfit. He was going to duck into the back to avoid her but she had already seen him and turned to walk in his direction, a determined look on her face.

"Casey. Home Theater," she said tersely, grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him around in the direction of the curtained room.

Casey jerked his arm away but went along peacefully and even held the door open, allowing Sarah to enter the room first. Closing and locking the door firmly behind himself and flicking on the light switch, Casey did a quick recon to ensure all the curtains were drawn before turning to Sarah and growling out, "What?"

Instead of answering his challenge in kind, Sarah sat on the sofa and indicated that Casey should do the same. He hesitated for a moment and then sat, hunching forwards uncomfortably as Sarah leaned back, crossed her legs, and settled in for what was apparently going to be a long session.

Giving Casey a smug, superior look, Sarah said, "Come on, spill."

"Waddaya mean?" Casey snarled, his brows bunching up as he turned his head to look at her.

"I finally figured it out," Sarah began. "Well, actually, Anna got there before me. She's pretty tuned in when it comes to men. I should take lessons from her."

Casey was starting to get impatient. Why did women have to talk in this secret code of theirs? He was a trained agent with years of experience and even he was getting lost on this one.

"Just what are you trying to get at, Walker?" he snapped.

"You've got a girlfriend, haven't you, Casey? That's why you've been so messed up lately. I'm right, aren't I? Come on, talk to me."

Sarah leaned forwards eagerly, the look on her face alternating between compassion and burning curiosity, and placed a hand on Casey's arm.

Instead of pulling away from her touch this time, however, Casey let his head and shoulders drop and, his voice full of sorrow, said, "You really do care about what happens to me, don't you, Sarah?"

Sarah straightened her spine at the sound of her name. As far as she could remember, Casey had never used just her first name before. It had always been "Agent Walker" or, more usually, just a barked-out "Walker." She must be getting somewhere here.

Modulating her voice to convey all the compassion she could drum up, Sarah replied, "Of course I care about what happens to you, John. I'm your partner, after all."

Casey stood up suddenly and whipped around to face her, knocking Sarah back a bit and, wearing his meanest scowl, growled out, "Then mind your own fucking business!"

Casey was pleased that he had been able to fake Sarah out so easily, and he stalked out of the room, leaving her sitting on the sofa, completely dumbstruck.

When he came back out into the store, Casey saw Chuck lurking nearby nervously fiddling with his tie. Chuck pointed his finger in the air as Casey approached and had opened his mouth to speak when Casey said, loudly enough so the other associates within earshot could hear, "Bartowski, keep your woman under control. And keep her off of me."

As he continued on his way back to finish inventory, Casey thought, _There, that should give these pathetic dweebs a sufficiently thorough mindfuck_, and he smiled maliciously, figuring this might turn out to be a pretty good day after all.

* * *

Casey had chilled the Prosecco and was placing two champagne flutes on the kitchen counter beside a bowl of large strawberries when he heard the knock at the door.

Quickly wiping his hands on a dish towel, Casey hurried to the door and flung it to one side. He had already opened his mouth to tell Melody how much he had missed her during the past two weeks but stopped and closed it again when his brain registered the bottle blonde standing in the courtyard.

She opened with the handler code of, "This isn't what the weatherman said on the news," and her face took on a puzzled look when Casey didn't respond right away with the counter-code.

Casey collected himself after a moment and stuttered out, "Oh, yeah, uh, they should get their facts straight, don't you think?"

This time, the exchange ended with, "I would have brought an umbrella," which indicated to Casey that this handler had a lower-level clearance than Melody's, and he stood aside to let her enter the apartment.

Once inside, the woman turned to Casey and said, "You can call me Janet. So what's on the agenda, Major Casey? Do we get to know each other first or get down to business?"

Casey frowned at this direct approach. He felt it cheapened what he and Melody had together, and he was about to explain that he wasn't going to need Janet's services after all when he suddenly realized that if he refused outright, this new handler might question why, and Casey was not prepared to reveal the depth of his feelings for Melody, nor that she returned them.

Instead, he asked, "Where is Dr. Beckman?"

Looking around the room and walking over to the kitchen door, the woman replied unenthusiastically, "Dunno." Then, catching sight of the wine, she said, "Oh, good, booze," and went in to help herself to a glass.

Casey stood in the middle of the living room bemused by this behavior. Who was this person and where was Melody?

Then it hit him like a freight train. The non-committal things Melody had said in the car the last time, the way she had averted her eyes and, even when she had looked at him, looked through him. Casey had interpreted it all wrong. He had twisted it around in his head, turning it into what he had wanted to see and hear, and it all added up to one conclusion: She wasn't coming back. She was never coming back.

Time slowed down as Casey's brain worked through these thoughts, finally fixating on the last one. _She's never coming back_, he repeated to himself over and over again.

Casey was becoming angry, and he actively fed his anger until his temples were pounding. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he built it up, layer upon layer, until the part of him that wanted to collapse to the floor and cry out his anguish was no longer discernable.

When the new agent returned to the living room, alternately sipping her drink and munching on a strawberry, Casey abruptly snatched both the glass and the fruit from her hands and put them on the table. He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her towards the stairs, and her face lit up as she observed, "Oh, so it is straight to business, then?"

Once in his room, Casey, angry beyond all reason, ordered the woman to strip, and she willingly did so as Casey removed his clothing, glowering at her all the while.

The woman had an allover tan, slightly on the orange side, and it looked to Casey as though she had had more than a little help from a plastic surgeon. In contrast, he remembered Melody's natural curves and coloring, especially the feel of soft, downy body hair and springy pubic hair when he realized this woman was waxed to within an inch of her life, including a full Brazilian.

By this time, Casey's anger at Melody's betrayal was so all-consuming that he hadn't even begun to get an erection, and when he noticed the woman looking at his limp penis with an amused smirk on her face, he growled out, "On your knees."

She obliged and was soon doing her best to get him started, taking his penis into her mouth and using her tongue, lips and hands to stimulate him. When he finally did react, it was not from her efforts but out of anger, and his cock began to rapidly form, filling out and elongating as his brain became clouded in his fury.

Before Casey even knew what he was saying, he had yelled out, "NSA whore!" and the woman, who had a large part of his member down her throat and thought he was addressing her, became excited and redoubled her efforts.

When Casey began thrusting his now-full erection forwards and choking the woman, she disengaged, yelling out, "Hey, tiger! Not so rough!"

She was about to continue working on him when Casey hauled her up from her knees by her armpits, spun her around and pushed her partway onto the bed so she was bent over in front of him.

This was better. Now he didn't have to look at her face. Because it wasn't his beautiful Melody's face. That fucking bitch.

Wanting to hurt this woman and, in a twisted way, get back at Melody, Casey found her vaginal opening and rammed himself in, not pausing at her obvious cry of pain. He grabbed her shoulders and twisted his hands to purposely leave marks and pushed his hips into her as hard and as fast he could, ignoring her protests and pinning her down with his weight so she couldn't get away.

As he continued his punishment of Melody by proxy, Casey's invective became more vile and insulting, calling the woman "cunt" and "whore" and any other thing that he thought might degrade and wound her. He even threw in some choice vulgar phrases in Russian just to make his point.

Not long after beginning these vicious physical and psychological attacks, though, Casey was losing steam. He slowed down his thrusts until he had stopped entirely and, still angry but no longer with a desire for revenge, he let the woman go, pulling his deflating penis from her violated body and straightening up.

He noticed that bruises were already beginning to form on her buttocks and there were angry red welts on her shoulders, but he felt somehow removed from the scene now, and he watched, aloof, as she got up stiffly from the bed and wiped a tear from her face before turning around to sneer at him.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" she hissed as she stooped to retrieve her clothes.

Casey remained untouched. He felt as though he were on a boat, quietly sailing farther and farther away from his old emotions as his heart hardened against any more pain.

"Leave. Now," he directed in a cold, clear voice, and the woman was only too happy to oblige. They both dressed quickly and went downstairs, no longer speaking to one another. Casey let her out of the apartment and turned, calm now, to collect the half a strawberry and glass of wine from the table and take it into the kitchen. He poured the wine and the rest of the bottle down the drain and threw the strawberries away, washing the bowl and glasses and putting them into the cupboard.

Going back up to the bedroom, Casey went over to the high-boy dresser and picked up a small gift-wrapped box that was lying on top of it. Tearing off the wrapping and tossing it into the waste basket, he opened the blue velvet hinged box and stared for a moment with a blank expression at the gold tennis bracelet that had cost him two months' salary, its many diamonds blinking and flashing as he tilted the box from side to side. Casey opened the top drawer of the dresser and, snapping the box shut, placed it beside the jeweler's receipt, closed the drawer and turned away.

He carefully tidied the bedroom and arranged everything the way he liked it, erasing any trace that either Janet or Melody had ever been there. When he went into the bathroom to give it a purifying clean, he stopped and looked in the mirror, but he felt no connection to the face that was looking back at him through shallow, expressionless eyes. Empty. Dead.

* * *

The petite woman with pale, lightly freckled skin, red hair in a neat bun on the back of her head and stars on her uniform rose to greet the tall imposing-looking black man in the dark tailored suit who had been ushered into the boardroom to join her in the Washington Headquarters of the NSA.

"Hello, Langston. Thank you for coming," she said, extending her hand and smiling as he grasped it in a shake.

"Good morning, Diane. I'm very curious to know what this is all about, actually," he replied, as he returned her smile and took the seat that she indicated.

After seating herself and calling in her secretary to order coffee service, General Beckman and Director Graham chatted amicably, waiting for the coffee to be delivered and the room to be secured.

Glancing at the laptop screen positioned at his place, Director Graham saw live video feed of a woman sitting in another boardroom. She was studying a folder of papers on the table in front of her and frowning intently at them.

When she looked up briefly towards the camera, Director Graham exclaimed, "Melody! How is she doing, Diane? She's an accredited psychologist/agent now, isn't she? It's been years. The last time I saw her, she was still in pigtails."

"Yes, she is, Langston, but please wait for a few more minutes and then we can get started."

When the coffee had been served and the doors had closed, activating a red light above them to indicate the room was now secure, General Beckman started with the housekeeping.

"Langston, I've invited you to sit in on this debriefing today as a matter of professional courtesy."

Sliding a copy of the dossier she had in front of her over to him, a file with the NSA seal on the front and the words _Major John Casey, Echo Park Placement, Ultra-Top Secret, Eyes-Only_ printed on the front, she indicated he was to open the cover and sign the first two sheets.

"As you'll recognize," she explained, "it's a standard inter-agency security agreement: The CIA agrees not to act on what you will see and hear at this debriefing today without the NSA's prior knowledge, and so on."

Nodding his head as he scanned the form, Director Graham pulled a pen from his inside jacket pocket and signed twice, handing the sheets to the general to be signed, then folding the single copy she returned to him and placing it and the pen back into his pocket.

Satisfied that the formalities had been taken care of, the general began her introductory remarks.

"Normally, we would not divulge internal matters to another agency, but since we're in the unusual position of having a shared asset, namely, the Intersect, I thought you should be apprised of this situation; otherwise, it would have been merely a routine psychological cleanse of one of our field agents."

The general paused to look at the director and he nodded in agreement with this position, so she continued.

"Like any good craftsman – or, in this case, craftswoman –" she said, smiling briefly at the director, "I like to keep my tools sharp, and my best agent was showing signs of becoming a little too comfortable on this assignment, a little dull around the edges, if you will."

"I handpicked Major Casey for special grooming when he first came to us, personally supervising all of his missions, and I'm proud to say he's my greatest accomplishment. He has always been my asset but even he doesn't know to what extent I have been involved in the entire process. And am still involved."

Director Graham, who had been perusing the file while listening to the general, started and glanced again at the young woman on the computer screen before returning his gaze to her older version in front of him.

"But, Diane, surely you didn't –"

"I did, Langston," the general stated. "I needed the best psych agent I've got to help repair the best field agent I've got. And Melody is the best, as you'll see from the results of the mission. But Melody doesn't know I'm running her and neither does Major Casey. The audio feed from here to the room that Melody is in will distort our voices so they're unrecognizable. I'm trusting you according to the official agreement you just signed and as a colleague and a friend not to let either of them know."

Director Graham slowly nodded his head, saying, "Yes, of course, Diane. And thank you for inviting me today, since I understand fully that you didn't have to."

Just then, the door to the other boardroom opened and Janet entered, flinging a manila folder onto the table in front of Melody, who looked up in surprise as the blonde woman said, "Your man Casey is a royal son-of-a-bitch, Beckman. Has all the underpinnings of a Class A sadistic bastard."

Melody's face froze over into a hard stare and she looked at the younger woman for a moment, sizing her up.

When she did speak, all she said was, "Is that your professional summary of what's in your report, Dr. McNamara?"

Janet, sensing suddenly that she had stepped over some line, backed off and replied meekly, "Yes, Doctor."

"Thank you. That will be all," said Melody dismissively, turning her head back to her papers and leaving the other agent standing there, awkwardly glancing around, until it finally occurred to Janet that she was to leave, and she slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her, re-activating the red security light.

A low-register, slightly distorted voice came over the loudspeaker as Melody flipped through Janet's report.

"Dr. Beckman," it said, "as you know, this will be the final debriefing for this mission and, I must say, I consider it an unqualified success."

General Beckman paused for a moment, looking for any reaction from Melody. Seeing none, she continued.

"Dr. McNamara's results were equally impressive, and it has been so noted on her record."

Holding up two photographs, one depicting the red welts on Janet's shoulders, the other the full extent of the bruising on her buttocks and upper thighs, Melody finally spoke.

"Janet will recover, I suppose?" she inquired in a clinical tone of voice.

"Yes. I've been informed by medical that it won't take long for the damage to heal," observed the disembodied voice. "And Dr. McNamara has suffered no psychological trauma from her encounter, either."

"Good for her," Melody whispered.

"What was that?" the voice inquired.

Melody looked into the air and replied, "Nothing, sir. Just clearing my throat."

Director Graham shot a look at the general, but if she had noticed that anything was wrong with Melody, she wasn't giving it away. Instead, she continued with the debriefing.

"Please give me your summary, Dr. Beckman, of the mission results."

Melody flipped over to the last couple of pages in the file and explained, "Under the guise of what we called the Secure Companion Program, I made contact with the field agent, gained his trust, and initiated the planned protocols. As you'll see in the summary section at the back of the file, the subject, in relation to the secondary objective of the mission, reacted as anticipated and experienced a deep psychological cleansing. In my estimation, the positive outcomes deriving from this protocol should be effective for another five years or so, at which point the subject should be reassessed in relation to his psychological state."

Melody paused for a moment as if steeling herself to continue.

"And the result of Dr. McNamara's intervention for the second phase of the mission has clearly achieved the primary objective: that of emotional detachment that is so necessary in a valuable asset such as Major Casey."

Glancing at Director Graham, General Beckman interrupted before Melody could continue.

"Thank you, Dr. Beckman. You'll find in the envelope beside you the necessary papers and details of your new assignment, as well as documentation of your promotion. Congratulations."

Flicking off the communications equipment, General Beckman closed her file and accepted the folder back from Director Graham. After saying good-bye and seeing him out the door, she returned to the table and turned to the back of her file. There were another two files tucked inside of hers, both red, and she opened one up and flipped through the pages.

The red file was available to only three people at the agency, General Beckman and two superiors, and contained information that was too sensitive to keep in Casey's regular file. Among the sheets was a page detailing his early childhood with his alcoholic mother, who had started drinking heavily after his younger brother had died unexpectedly, finally abandoning Casey and his father, who had raised the boy on his own.

General Beckman paused and thought about her daughter. She really was the best if she had gotten down far enough into the major's psyche to draw this information out of him, as she had written in her report. Major Casey had had extensive block conditioning as part of his training to hide any information that might make him particularly vulnerable in the field, and Melody had somehow circumvented that conditioning. But how had she done it? Perhaps that was why the report seemed incomplete somehow. Director Graham had also sensed that something was amiss; the general had seen his glance.

After thinking it over, General Beckman finally decided that Melody could be trusted completely to do what was right and, as the mission coordinator, there was no point second-guessing her agent's actions, but the mother side of her was still worried and even more worried that she didn't know why. A parent's lot in life, no matter who the parent was, it seemed.

Turning to the first page of the red file, General Beckman read the words: _Major John Casey, Echo Park Placement. Complete emotional detachment required to fully effectuate this asset's primary function in the event that the Human Intersect becomes expendable._

She flipped the red folder closed, re-inserted it into the file the director had been using, then got up and left the room.

* * *

"Dr. Beckman."

Melody turned at the sound of her mother's voice and waited in the hallway for the general to catch up. Smiling sadly, she reached out and grasped her mother's hand, dropping it after a brief moment.

General Beckman contemplated her daughter before asking, "Is everything all right?"

Melody sighed and looked at the floor. "Just an assignment that didn't turn out the way I thought it would," she said, a wry look on her face when she raised her eyes to look once again at the general.

"They seldom do turn out the way we expect, Melody," the general observed. "Will you be over for dinner tonight? I think your father has some new publications that he wants to show you."

"I'll be there," said Melody, "but I've had enough psychology for a while. My transfer takes effect in a couple of days and I could use a break."

"I'll tell him," said the general, as she pulled Melody's forehead down to her lips and gave it a gentle kiss. "But you know how your father can get once he starts talking shop."

"Yes, I know," Melody said, rolling her eyes in agreement.

They turned and continued walking down the corridor, once again superior officer and NSA agent.

"Oh, I got a promotion, General, but maybe you already knew about that," said Melody.

"Oh, really?" returned General Beckman. "No, as a matter of fact, I didn't. Congratulations, Doctor."

* * *

General Beckman was alone in her office. Still worried about Melody, she flipped open the computer on the desk in front of her and tapped in a key sequence that gave her the video feed from Headquarters' outdoor parking lot in time to see Melody exit the building and walk towards her car.

Switching from camera to camera as Melody moved across the lot, the general was able to track her progress to the very edge, which was bordered by a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Just beyond the fence and security lighting, the ground dipped into a deep gully with steep sides that was designed to make unauthorized access very difficult indeed.

Watching closely, the general saw Melody approach her car, put the key into the door lock, then pause and draw it out again. She turned and walked over to within a few feet of the fence, and General Beckman had to quickly switch cameras to get a better view.

When she had located the best angle, she saw Melody unhook a large purse from her shoulder and unzip it, searching inside with one hand. Finally, she extracted a cardboard box and, taking off the lid, pulled out a wilted and fading bouquet of small red roses tied with a blue ribbon. Putting the box back into her bag and placing it on the ground, Melody held the roses to her cheek and caressed them with her hand, shoulders heaving as her tears splashed to the pavement.

Even without audio the general could feel her daughter's pain, but there was nothing she could do to acknowledge it let alone provide comfort, and she watched as Melody kissed the bouquet one last time, finally flinging it high over the fence so that it bounced down into the bottom of the gully.

At least the general now knew what was missing from her daughter's reports, and she continued to watch the video feed blankly long after Melody had gotten into her car and driven away.


End file.
